


The Tale of James Gatz

by Hyperbadger



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1974), The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Male Character, Bottom Nick Carraway, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Gay Nick Carraway, Gay Sex, I'm Bad At Tagging, Jay Gatsby Lives, Lesbian Jordan Baker, M/M, One Night Stands, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Tom Buchanan is a Dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28481544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyperbadger/pseuds/Hyperbadger
Summary: 'I wouldn't ask too much of her' I ventured. 'You can't repeat the past'.'Can't repeat the past?' he cried incredulously. 'Why of course you can!'Oh, how wrong I had been that fateful day. The baking New York sun no less clouding my judgement than the drops of sweat cascading down that awe-inspiring body. Droplets which I now observe from the window of my humble little apartment as the never-ending monsoon washes away the day. Perhaps putting my thoughts to paper would finally give me the clarity I have been searching for my entire adult life. Away from the drama and the scandal and the heartache. Away from him.
Relationships: Jordan Baker/Other(s), Nick Carraway/Jay Gatsby, Nick Carraway/Original Male Character, Past Nick Carraway/Mr McKee
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing something proper like this, so bare with me if it's not up to scratch. Anyway, just wanted to celebrate the book entering public domain in the US(international representation yay!). Also, we're studying it for A-Level and quite a few people mock me for shipping Natsby so I just wanna say fellow shippers you are not alone, stand by your beliefs and rejoice in our freedom.  
> P.S. I promise there will be more actual NickxJay content in the following chapters.

Upon recalling the tumultuous stream of events I like to call 'that summer', a greater sense of clarity began to take shape in the distant regions of my mind. I like to call it 'that summer' not because I can't quite remember(it was a great struggle not to), but because I'd rather disassociate it from any form that would bring to mind the people and events that brought me nothing but heartache. Despite my initial desire to remain in solitude with my thoughts for company, the persistent rapping on my door reminded me that there was still some good in this dark world, like a sort of....light. 

' 'Ey Nick, I'm headin' out down town. Wanna tag along an' waffle on about your troubles or summin?'. Deciding that I'd better at least open the door in courtesy, I swung my legs from the comfort of my bed and led them to my living room. Nowadays, a select few things could rouse me from my self-pitying shrovel, mainly to make use of the bathroom, grab a bite to eat or face the world of work. My new-found friend and neighbour, however, had been somewhat of a saving grace to me these past few months. For instance, I can now use the term 'neighbour' without thinking about.... 

' Don't be givin' no excuses when I know you'll really be mopin' about that Gatsby fella!'. I can also count on her to know my innermost troubles and desires which, as closed as I may seem, was witchcraft at its finest. The sun was just beginning to set, the stars not yet out, and here she was, donned in a short scarlet dress with so many jewels it could rival the night sky. Her caramel-coloured skin was given a healthy glow by the highlighter dusting her cheekbones and high forehead. Two round, heavily lined hazel eyes and a ruby red mouth concealing a blinding smile. One glance at my composure and she barged her way in. 'Nick, sweetie, ya can't be livin' like this! I know what happened to you were a damn tragedy but how can ya even begin to get ya head straight when you're swamped by boxes and piles of clothes and the like?'. Ever since moving away from West Egg, my belongings hadn't quite made it from their boxes to their appropriate place and if they did remained in random piles across the apartment. Almost as if they held with them the memory of being comfortably located in my bungalow which was overshadowed by that one illustrious mansion with its gleaming lights shining across the bay by the sun. In a way I envied them, because they had the capability to be able to go through life without dwelling on the past and letting it dictate their every movement. 

'Clara, look, maybe I'd just do better for being alone for now. I've had enough practice to know.' 

'I'm gonna say this as a friend, so don't take no offense but you', a sharp prod to my chest 'are' another sharper prod followed suit 'crazy!' to add some variety, a light slap to my left cheek. 'A problem shared is a problem halved. Less weight on ya back to straighten it an' get a good posture to catch the eyes of the local fellas!'. 

' I doubt that the straightness of my spine would improve my status in the world of romance and if you've forgotten I could go to jail for simply being gay then I really would be an my own and....' 

'Breathe. No matter wha' those bigoted bastards say I'll stick by you through thick and thin. Coz that's wha' friends do. When I saw my papa come home one day weepin' into my mama's arms after bein' cornered in a back alley by some evil thugs I vowed tha' as long as I had my heart an' my head intact then I would do all in my limited power to make the world a lil' less crappy. Coz anyone, an' I repeat anyone who would dare to taint someone with a mind and an angelic soul as you deserve to be shamefully shunned while you shine brighter that the lights of Las Vegas. Speakin' of Vegas...' she trailed off in a rather cheeky tone. In an instant Clara was crouching beside a charming little record player and a book of various records from various artists that have expertly captured my various moods and views which were as ever-changing as the American seasons and their promises of a new hope. I had no previous intentions of purchasing one, yet I had a couple of dollars left over from selling my quaint bungalow and it was screaming at me to take it home so it could sing to its heart's content. 

'Ya see it now Nick my dear?' Clara yelled over the sax and vocals of Louis Armstrong serenading us. 'This is what life should be about! Grabbin'' she grasped my hand and raised it above our heads, twirling around gracefully 'Life by the balls an'' swaying side to side facing me 'Runnin' for the hills!'. It was moments like these that made me realise just how precious a gift life was. 'Well then, Clara, I guess that we'd better celebrate my new life by taking up your offer on accompanying you on this night out' I chuckled. 'Now this is the Nick I know an' love! Now a new life demands a new look now you hop your ass in that there shower while I try an' sort out this junkyard!' 

Feeling the warm water cascade down my body brought me back to the time when I was waiting outside my house while just inside my good friend was drifting further away. I'm not usually one to lie, But if I said that Gatsby was my friend then I would look at myself as a stranger. To me, he was so much more. He was my stars and I an explorer; bright, there when all else was lost and made me believe in the impossible. He had the most extraordinary gift of being able to envision a perfect reality that seemed like a dream but was determined absolutely that it could come to fruition. Even if it cost him as much pain as it did to those to those who yearned to be vital to this great plan but were shunned by reality. 

I often find myself wondering how I ended up here. Well, staying in West Egg was hardly a viable option. Not after all the commotion of that disastrous day that stretched for years. While the birds sang the gunshots haunted me everyday. 'I'm sure Mr Gatsby will be happy you called Mr Carraway'. If that were true then I would never know because that smile, oh that smile, was trapped forever in the confines of the earth. Trapped yet freer than he'd ever been before in his mortal life for he was no longer troubled by the lies he attempted to portray. 

Every night after every party that he had held I felt drawn to his captivating, charming façade. Still, I carry that invitation about me in my lapel so that it can be close to my beating heart aching for a hopeless myth. Upon arriving at West Egg, I felt like an anomaly; undeserving to be surrounded by America's most glamorous, always looking up while they brushed over me. Yet the prestige that my family had so graciously instilled within me from an early age gave me just enough insight into their habits that I understood, but not without occasional criticism. 

When I saw him on the dock that night, hand precariously stretched out across the bay towards glamorous East Egg, I had instinct as to question his actions. Yet I noticed gradually why he had done it: a pinprick of green light. How could such a minute speck of light entrance him so when there were at least a billion stars in the night sky? Then it had hit me: my cousin. My cousin who has the most ironic name that there ever could be. Nowhere near the grace and beauty that that flower which is her namesake displays in the confines of summertime. Upon seeing them in lush fields, you remark their quiet yet captivating beauty, their white petals spread serenely lounging with effortless glamour. You feel the upmost regret at having trodden on them. You feel remorseful when they are gone into hibernation and yearn for their presence to brighten up the room. The second I had stepped into their gigantic mansion I was immediately taken aback. The grandeur within far exceeding the image I had painted for myself in my mind. The front doors greeted you and showed you into an elaborate entrance hall with winding staircases just begging for you to follow them to where they led. Chandeliers hung from high ornate ceilings which served only to strain the neck. 

That day in New York had been a day of new experiences. Not only did I get to witness the corruptness of the American upper class, but I also discovered how the sweet burn of alcohol can morph you into an unrecognisable character. After that first sip of whiskey slid down my throat, it strengthened my burning desire to act as unruly as possible, then when the morning came it wouldn’t strengthen the unforgiving headache that came with a hangover. Yet I couldn’t forget his smooth voice beckoning me to join him, his strong hands tracing the contours of my body as we undid each other's clothes. In my mind I knew it was wrong; I saw how his wife boasted of the many pictures he took of her. Then I thought of the commitments I had, but with each searing kiss branding my skin and with each one of his thrusts that brought tears to my eyes there grew the realisation that we are human. 

To say I was shocked to receive an invitation to my neighbour’s party that summer night was an understatement. He could easily have come over to my house and ask me to my face, then I realised that someone of such stature wouldn’t be seen dead acknowledging my lowly place. I had thought about rejecting it; I hadn’t anything in my wardrobe to match the standards of those who regularly graced his palace. Yet I was too far into the mystery of the legendary Gatsby not to. So, dressed in standard tux and slacks and my all too extravagantly hand-written invitation in my lapel, I set off across the lawn and into his kingdom. 

For such a party I found it absurd for the host not to be out celebrating that people from afar flock to him when they could easily find such comforts closer to home. Then I considered how desensitised he could eventually become with being surrounded by such luxury twenty-four seven. It appeared that I had been the only one there that had been invited, which made me feel rather special but also confused. Why hadn’t he introduced himself to me when I arrived? More to the point, how were these people able to turn up, get roaring drunk and emerge later the next morning so freely? 

‘I’m Gatsby’. No fuss, no song and dance, just those two words that changed my life. Tall, clean-shaven and an athletic, muscular body that could easily sweep you off your feet. He could also do that with his head of thick, slicked back golden hair and those ocean blue eyes you just ached to dive into. But that smile, blindingly bright and charming, was what had me hooked. It made me truly believe that he held those he gifted it to in such high esteem and, optimistically, that he wanted to charm me into a connection beyond that of business associates. He was a God among men. 

He told me his story that day we went to the speakeasy. Within an instant I felt the uncontrollable urge to laugh; both because of how utterly ridiculous the rumours were and how remarkable a tale he could tell. I was glad he told me because I felt then that I could finally trust and guide him. Yet when Jordan finally revealed the deeper layer he had attempted to hide, I felt hopelessly lost. How could I stand by and watch as he got closer to his past and away from his future? Yet watch I did, with the upmost resentment, while I decided to make a go of things with Jordan to put my mind at ease. We both knew that neither of us were truly drawn to each other in that way. I believe she, like myself, was troubled too. Then again, I have never fully understood women in any sense of the word. I think that’s why we decided to remain friends, albeit quite distant. We called frequently and, on occasion, met up for some lunch. Sadly, that had not been happening much lately and, when we did talk, she sounded rather distant. 

As the weeks went on and the story unravelled, tension grew to the point of unbearability. From that awful confrontation between Gatsby and Mr Buchanan things could only become even more destructive. When news got out that Myrtle had been killed by some reckless driver, I had to get Gatsby’s side of the story. He claimed that she didn’t do anything wrong. I claimed, rightly, to myself that he was lying to my face. He was blatantly trying to cover up her actions and save her from the fate that eventually met him in his swimming pool. 

I was the only one at his funeral. The cocktail of sadness and bitterness at those who didn’t so much as send their condolences and my own self-resentment made me sick to my stomach. I had to move on. If only I knew it weren’t so simple. 

I quit my old job as a bonds salesman when I realised that I couldn’t even maintain bonds with those around me. The monotony, too, played a significant part. I wanted nothing more to do with my old life. ‘May I rest in peace’ I said to myself as I looked at my old home one last time before driving away into the future. I said it, because I felt that at least my former self could remain by Gatsby’s side in the afterlife. 

Pennsylvania is where I live now, overlooking the suburban streets of Philadelphia. Busy, yes, but with a stronger sense of home. Spring bought with it glistening sunlight and new hope, while autumn littered the pavements in shades of vibrant orange and daffodil yellow. I am now a journalist for the local newspaper, something that brought me closer to the real world and all for a fairly decent wage. 

I met Clara the day I moved into my apartment. She was out walking her dog when she saw me struggling to get all my possessions out of my car. ’Hey there! Ya new ‘round these parts?’ 

‘Yeah, just moved out from New York. Are you...?’ 

‘From round here too? Yeah, jus’ so happens we’re neighbours. Lucky you!’ she said with a gleeful smile upon her face. In that moment she seemed so hospitable and I hoped to God that our connection would last. ‘So, New York, huh? I’d love to go there someday! I hear it’s a wonderful place.’ If only she knew. ’What area d’ya live?’ 

‘West Egg’ I replied curtly. With my mentioning of the sordid island her whole composure changed: her warm, innocence was overshadowed by a sense of deep remorse and intrigue. ‘Oh my giddy aunt, you never knew a Mr Gatsby, did ya?’ 

To be honest, I wasn’t even sure myself. I convinced myself that I did, but looking back now it all seems to be mixed up under the façade of Gatsby. Poor James Gatz never got much of a look in. 

‘Yeah, I did. He was my neighbour and a...friend of mine’. 

‘Oh, dear Lord, I’m awful sorry ‘bout ya loss. Such a terrible shame, so young an’ everythin’. Dya wanna come in and talk ‘bout it?’. The fact that she seemed to be concerned not of the extravagant tale of his life, but instead on my side and how I was coping, struck me. It struck me that there was hope that there were some people in this rotten world who genuinely cared for people like me, and that I was lucky enough to find this right next to where I live. 

‘I’d really like that, thanks....’ 

‘Clara. Clara Mayfair’she extended her right hand. ‘And you’d be...’ 

‘Nick’ I returned the friendly gesture with my own right hand ‘Nick Carraway. That’s a wonderful dog you’ve got there’I nodded towards the well-groomed golden retriever who was whining balefully at her feet.’Oh,Jenson, yeah he’s a stunner alrigh’, won a competition a while back. Been wi’the family since I went off to college. My folks aren’t as young as they used to be so I’m landed with him now, ain’t that right, darlin’?’ she sighed affectionately and gave him a warm embrace. ‘getting kinda dark now, huh?’ she gazed at the slowly setting sun and the stars that were taking its place. ‘I’ll help ya with those there boxes and then you’ll come to mine and we’ll get to know each other a bit better,yeah?’. ‘Thanks, I could do with a rest. It’s been a long and rather tiring day’. 

We talked more as we both carried my belongings into my new home. It felt strange to experience that wonderful feeling of what appeared to be genuine friendship. Too often I had been conned into believing that everybody had a fundamental sense of goodwill, yet I soon learned that some people were simply without a heart. Yet I still held out hope, because this was a better option than losing faith and descending into a perilous spiral. Eventually, we had made it to Clara’s apartment, and what a sight it was! I didn’t quite know where to look at first: everything just seemed to scream out for attention. Jenson reclined on an incredibly large and plush chequered pet bed which lay just beside a sleek black leather couch overlooking the city below. On a pristine shelf beside the fireplace stood various photos of what I assumed to be Clara at many stages of her life with friends and family members, the many smiling faces encapsulated within ornate golden frames. A tall jukebox sat on the other side of the living room, upon which were various books, papers and an empty glass of what I presumed to have been previously filled with alcohol. This entire scene was glowing under the fairy lights adorning the walls, and I truly felt then that I had been transported to an alternate reality where magic was a reality. 

‘Dya want anythin’ to drink? I got tea, coffee...’ 

‘Umm, tea would be great, thanks’ I said, stunned out of my disbelief at the question asked. 

The tea was made and we sat beside each other on the plush couch, hands and hearts warmed by the comforting heat and heavenly aroma. After a short while a conversation had sparked and with that, our long term friendship had begun. 

‘So, you were involved with this whole Gatsby business, huh? God, you must have gone through such a lot. Dya wanna talk about it, maybe get it off ya chest a bit?’ 

I told her everything; from our first meeting right up until his untimely end. Some bits remained unsaid, perhaps because it still hurt too much to say out loud. It seemed so natural to reveal my story to someone without the aid of alcohol that I started to wonder whether I should have done this ages ago. Clara listened, the perfect mix of shock and sympathy etched onto her face. Something told me, however, that she wanted to ask me something but was wondering whether it was appropriate. 

‘Nick, I know this may seem mighty strange to you, but did you...did you love him?’ she asked tentatively. 

And there it was. The thing that made my ordeal all the more painful. The knowledge that I had absolutely no chance with the man I had been yearning after since we first met while he used me to get closer to my cousin; someone so unbelievably shallow-minded that she forgot him at the first sign of that awful man’s incredible wealth. For that I had the deepest feeling of self-resentment: I had only myself to blame for if I had no desire to lie next to Gatsby every night for the rest of our lives then I wouldn’t have led myself down the perilous spiral of severe grief. 

‘Beyond words’ I replied a short while after. She shuffled closer to me and wrapped her slender arms around me in a warm embrace which had my eyes fill with tears and eventually flow onto her sleeves as I gratefully returned the kind gesture like someone taking deep gasps of breath after having the gift of oxygen restricted for a while. 

After a long while of airing each other’s thoughts and feelings and reconciling the other, we eventually parted ways into our individual apartments. Just looking at the sheer amount of boxes gave me a headache, so I opted instead to fall back into my plush bed after undressing. I had just begun to finally drift off into the first proper sleep I had in ages when I thought I heard someone whispering my name. 

‘Nick...Nick...Nick!’. 

Peering around bleary-eyed, I had noticed a small hole cleverly concealed behind a painting of a rather lacklustre backdrop of hills and trees. Even with my dreary, addled brain I managed to conclude that this led into Clara’s room. Whilst in her flat I subtly noted that the walls appeared rather thin, as the faint air of another couple caught up in an argument drifted from the opposite end of the hall. 

‘Clara...what is it, what do you want?’ I answered blearily. 

‘I jus’ wanted to say that you should never feel guilty for somethin’ tha’ was completely out of your control. And, if yall are up for it, I could help ya find a real man who would take proper care o’ ya, just as ya deserve.’ 

To be honest, I hadn’t given this much consideration. Given everything that has happened so far, I became much more focused on trying to make up for lost time. Then again, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try and jump back in to the world of happiness and romance. 

‘You know what? I guess I would be open to that’. 

‘Great! Now, it’s getting' awful late, we need our beauty sleep. G’nigh’ Nick’ a soft yawn and then all was silent. 

‘Goodnight, Clara’, and for the first time in a long while, as I set my weary head down on my pillow, I drifted off into a dreamless sleep. 

And that leads up to now: me, in my bathroom, hair sopping wet, face freshly shaved and my best friend who has so far successfully managed to make my life a little bit better in my living room. Looking into my reflection in the shower-misted mirror, fading youthful features clouded with dark circles finally made me realise that I need to live life to the full before it’s too late. 

‘Lookin’ good, lover boy’ I looked up and saw her smirking reflection. ‘Now head on into ya bedroom, get on those there gifts I left on ya bed then I can spruce ya up for a night on the town!’ 

‘Gifts? What gifts? Why would you get me gifts?’ I asked incredulously. 

‘Nick, what day is it today?’ 

‘Why, it’s....it’s....I don’t know’. I went to my room and glanced at the calendar hanging above my bedside table. June 29th. My birthday. Yet again I had put other priorities over myself and had forgotten that I had entered into a new year of my life. 

‘Clara, I-thank you so much!’ I whispered as I went to give her a tight hug. 

The present she had gifted me consisted of a rather lavish scarlet suit which shimmered under the light of my bedside lamp. Turning around in front of the mirror I noticed that the matching tight scarlet pants accentuated my slim legs and round butt to the point of flattery. Underneath the jacket I wore a long sleeved shirt dark as midnight with brown leather braces to match my shoes and a plum-coloured bowtie which curiously matched perfectly with the ensemble. My hair had been styled into a quiff with waves as subtle as the sea on a calm summers day and my face was transformed with abit of blush on my cheeks and a faint rosy lipstick on my mouth. I didn’t recognise myself and I loved it. 

After about half an hour a cab arrived outside the entrance and whisked us away to a mysterious destination unknown to anyone other than Clara and the driver. We glided past the gently blinking lights of the comfy houses, the rumble of the engine just enough to make me slightly sleepy, if not for the fact that the landscape shifted into towering skyscrapers and the delightful sounds of jaunty tunes and rowdy drunkards drifted through the cool evening air. Eventually we came to a stop in front of a grand hotel that glimmered with gold, bright lights and the men and women with their cigarettes alight and the reflection of jewels aplenty drifting in and out of the entrance. Two tall and dashing men decked out in traditional doormen uniform stood beside the entrance, occasionally guarding people’s car keys and offering help to those that asked them for it. I admired their genuinity and kindness and considered for a brief moment if that same charming nature might extend to a more intimate scene. 

I was brought back from my distracted state by a persistent shaking of my arm and a call of my name ‘Nick, sweetie, I’ve just gotta pop into that there department store to pick up your other gift, I won’ be a minute. Jus’ head on in there an’ wait by the elevator, ‘kay?’ 

‘I’m not sure I'll be able to cope with the suspense!’ I joked. With that, she was gone in an instant, her high heeled shoes ringing out against the marble floor leaving me alone and surrounded by the rich and affluent in society. Minutes had passed and I had many glances thrown my way, both suspicious (although for no reason whatsoever), and, curiously(if my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me), slightly flirtatious. Eventually, I saw Clara return through the front doors, this time accompanied by someone. A woman, with a slim athletic build heightened by tall black leather boots to match with her smooth black bob adorned with feathers. The swish of her short golden flapper dress approached me ever closer, at which point I knew immediately who hung onto my dear friend’s arm. 

‘Jordan?!Oh my god, is that really you? I can’t believe it, I thought you completely iced me out!’ I exclaimed loudly as I went to give her a suffocating hug which I hoped conveyed my immense relief that not everyone had forgotten me. 

‘Well, unless I’m not an extremely accurate lookalike then I'd say you were spot on!’ she laughed as she returned my gesture with just as much enthusiasm. ‘I’m awfully sorry about keeping you in the dark but, well, we didn’t wanna ruin the birthday boy’s surprise!’ 

‘Come on, lets head on downstairs and dance!’ Clara grabbing us both by the hand and slowly dragging us towards our destination. 

‘Wait, dancing? But, I-I-you know I have two left feet, I’ll make a fool of myself!’ I babbled incoherently. 

‘Nick, darling, everyone’s likely to be too caught up in themselves to notice. Plus, it’s all about having fun, who cares if you’re good or bad?’ 

‘Yeah, plus it’s ya birthday, ya need to let ya hair down, it’s the law! Plus, once we get a few cocktails down us then maybe we’ll get some different types of cock in us, if ya catchin’ ma drift’ Clara said while nudging me in my side with a wink of her 

‘Ah, apart from me should I get so lucky coz I bat for a different team’ 

Shocked at how our conversation had turned so sexual so quickly I merely opened and shut my mouth like a goldfish before dissolving into bouts of laughter and giggling. 

‘I should be so lucky. You on the other hand would have no problem’ I scoffed. 

‘Now don’t be so hard on yourself, sweetie, you’re a dreamboat which anyone would be honoured to have caught your bright baby blues’ Clara reassured me and Jordan nodded fervently and returned her kind sentiment. 

We went into the elevator, arms entwined with one anothers, and descended into the depths of the building. When the doors opened, I was in awe of what lay before us. A grand ballroom that could easily be mistaken for a fairytale palace, with quaint round tables that housed the kings and queens of America dressed in their finest as they laughed between sips of champagne and exotic cocktails. Those who weren’t sat down were instead dancing underneath the candlelight to the upbeat jazz music emanating from the band set upon a small stage near the corner, a blur of frenzied movements, a perfume of alcohol and cologne drifting through the air. 

The girls and I made our way to the bar which was an incredible replica of those typical in England. Soon enough we each had in front of us a tall glass of something tropical with the hint of rum and vodka. As soon as I had the first sip I saw out of the corner of my eye someone who appeared to be familiar. A rather dashing man not much older than myself, with hair and skin that had experienced the sun’s gentle kiss with the odd silver streak and bright eyes that were so charming and held a million stories. A well-groomed beard accentuated his sharp jawline which made him seem handsomely rugged. Something in my mind swore I had seen him before, but I put it down to the rather strong drinks I had consumed, and the matter disappeared further when I was dragged onto the dancefloor by Clara and Jordan. 

We danced for what seemed like hours, the three of us attempting to do some sort of a group charleston. In that moment, when we were practically toppling over each other and laughing our heads off, I wondered why I had wasted so much of my life caught up in a dream. My hands were joined with Clara’s and Jordan’s and we were spinning round and round when all of a sudden they let go and I went colliding into the chest of an unknown man at the bar. 

‘God, I’m so sorry, clearly I’ve had too much-’ 

When I looked into the eyes of this mysterious human who held me by the waist with strong hands, I was completely taken aback. He was one of the most handsome men I had ever seen. He looked like one of those Nordic lumberjacks gifted with the beauty of the Gods: shoulder-length red hair, round eyes the colour of hazelnuts and thick, full, groomed beard. His toned muscles stretched tight against his royal blue tux which I had embarrassingly left a small patch of lipstick on. 

‘-to drink. Oh, and I’ve left makeup on your shirt god and it must have been expensive’ I finished quietly. Instead of the expected look of frustration, I was greeted with a bright smile and a deep laugh which had almost made me fall again. 

‘It’s quite alright’ he assured me while setting me right and indicating the empty seat to his right. ’I’m Amund. Amund Solheim’ he offered his rugged hand out to me. 

‘Nick, Nick Carraway, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, let me buy you a drink for your troubles’ 

‘Ever the charmer, I see. Please, don’t put yourself to any trouble. So, what brings a pretty face like you here?’ 

‘It’s my birthday, I’m 31 today’ 

‘Well, allow me to wish you the happiest of birthdays and say you don’t look a day over 25’ 

‘Thank you, Amund. I must say that you’re one of the few people I’ve met who isn’t overwhelmingly self-absorbant, apart from my friends over there’ I nodded over to where Clara and Jordan were still dancing and occasionally but obviously glancing at me and Amund while whispering and giggling to one another. I knew then what they were insinuating, and I honestly couldn’t agree with them more. ‘So, what are you doing here all alone?’ 

‘Well, I-’ 

‘Hello, lovebirds!’ Jordan called out over the music 'Getting cosy, are we? Come on, Clara just had the most splendid idea!’ 

‘Ya sure bet I did! We’re gonna head over to the beach and go swimming!’ 

‘In the middle of the night!? Clara, it’ll be freezing’ 

‘Well we can have a bonfire afterwards! Come on, live in the moment, Nick my dear!’ 

‘Your friend does have a point. In Norway me and my friends would go to the beach at night to see the stars, the Northern lights, if we were lucky, then we would end up wet one way or another’ 

‘Ya see? Ya lumberjack lover agrees, now come on!’ 

‘Now you mention it, the beach is rather perfect under the cover of darkness’ 

We crowded into Amund’s car and headed to the nearest coast which surprisingly wasn’t too far from the hotel. Eventually, we stumbled out onto the vast expanse of powdery sand glowing faintly under the light of the full moon and the surrounding buildings that looked out to the glittering sea washing up to shore in a calming symphony. The warm summer air had a subtle chill to it, but that didn’t stop us from shedding our clothes onto the isolated coast leaving each of us clad only in our underwear. In no time at all, Clara leapt onto Jordan’s back and were rapidly disappearing into the inky sea. For a moment I stood there, dumbstruck and exposed despite being the only ones on the beach, yet Amund stood before me with his back turned and knees bent slightly in an invitation for us to follow the girls’ suit. With that I pressed my hands onto his broad shoulders and sprang up, wrapping my legs around his tapered waist, burying my face into his glossy hair laughing as he ran into the waves laughing along with me. 

Hours passed until eventually we emerged sopping wet and in love with life. Jordan had pointed out a quaint little cove that would be the perfect place for a small bonfire which, as we were cold from splashing around, appealed greatly. While me, Amund and Jordan crowded around the small bonfire upon discarded chunks of tree trunks Clara, already dressed, set out to a nearby store. To pass the time, we chatted in a drunken haze about anything that came to mind: life, animals, the future, celebrity crushes. Clara came back with a box in her hands, which was revealed to have a beautiful and delectable birthday cake inside it. Upon the glistening surface was written: 'Never change you wonderful man’ in rose coloured icing. On the outside, it looked like a simple chocolate cake, but when it was cut into gradually revealed an aesthetic fade of colours from ruby to plum, and I smiled warmly at the kind gesture. 

It was way past midnight when we had been warmed enough to start our journey back home in Amund’s car. He had kindly invited us back to his house to extend this wonderful night, but Jordan remembered that she had plans to surprise her girlfriend with a couple of days in Hawaii for their anniversary; ’I haven’t packed a damn thing!’. Clara, meanwhile, admitted that she had a job interview later in the day and needed some desperate sleep, leaving me and Amund alone together. Conversation was easy and flowed smoothly, yet either due to the alcohol or Amund’s soft gaze and charming words or both, I felt an uncomfortable warmth rise to my painted cheeks. 

We eventually made it to Amund’s house that looked like one of those cosy log cabins you’d see in Christmas movies or Scandinavian forests: all rustic homely features with a cosy fireplace bathing it in a golden glow. He offered me a small old fashioned as we learned more and more about one another’s lives. I had a tour of his house which, although brief, was entrancing. The last stop was his bedroom, a moonlit minimalistic room with a decent-sized four-poster dressed in crisp white sheets and an array of patterned pillows. 

A shared look was all that was need for me to end up with my birthday present crumpled up in the corner of the room while Amund was lavishing me with his mouth, both with praises and with pleasurable licks and nips which had me gasping and whining for more. All I heard was the soft falling of a shirt onto the floor and the unzipping of pants before I felt the immense pain-pleasure of him entering me. 

I woke the next morning aching all over, wondering if this was all a mistake. Amund reassured me that no matter the alcohol consumed there was certainly no regret on his part. 

He drove me home later that morning, and I had barely set a foot through my front door when I heard my phone ring. Taking my shoes and jacket off, I rushed to receive the call. 

‘Hello?’ 

‘Hi, is that a Mr. Nick Carraway?’ 

‘It is. Why are you calling, may I ask?’ 

‘We’re delighted to tell you that it would be our pleasure to publish your book!’.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar face changes Nick's life forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update, my school have been sending me loads of online work to do :( Anyways, plz enjoy :)

The call was brief, mainly telling me where and at what time to meet the CEO of the publishing company to talk over some matters. I remained in shock for some time after: yes, I had taken to writing as a sort of coping mechanism when drinking just wouldn’t cut it. All my work so far was hidden within the confines of my desk practically overflowing with finalised copies, notes, newspaper articles and such like, and certainly wasn’t seen by anyone other than myself. Rushing to my bedroom, I began to leaf through my drawers to see if it was there: nothing. The next few minutes were spent in a nervous haze, dashing from room to room and checking every little crevice to see if I could find my book. Then it hit me: it was so obvious I don’t know why it didn’t strike me straight away. 

I tried peering into the hole in the wall to see if she was in. Nothing. After a couple of minutes, I heard the rattling of keys and the gentle hum of a tune, so I made my way out the door to my answer. 

‘Hey, Clara!’ she immediately stopped what she was doing and turned in my direction. 

‘Oh, hey there, Nick! Dya need anythin’ ?’ 

‘Yes, I just wanted to ask you something. Do you happen to know what happened to my finished copy of The Great Gatsby? It’s just I got the strangest phone call from this company saying they want to publish my book when I haven’t shown it to anyone!’ 

‘Now, how on Earth would I know anythin’ ‘bout this book when no-one done lay their eyes on it?’ she huffed, hands on her hips in annoyance. 

‘It’s just that-well, you were in my apartment yesterday and-’ 

‘An’ you automatically thought I would do summin like that?! Honest to God, I am sick to death o’ people hollerin’ all sortsa shit at me, but I sure as hell didn’t expect it from-’ 

Before she could finish her sentence, I held in front of her bewildered eyes what had caught mine. Hidden under a pile of books scattered on the quaint little coffee table, a yellowing corner was sticking out, the letters ‘G’ and ‘A’ etched on the textured surface. Carefully, I slid this intriguing document from the confines of authors past and I saw eventually why Clara had attempted to conceal it. 

‘Look, Nick, ya gotta understan’’- 

‘No, you’ve got to understand! This right here is what I had to suffer through for months on end, and only when I got it onto paper could I finally be at peace, heal the scars of my mind. Did you even consider for a single moment what this might do to me? What having my secrets and troubles being exposed would do to me? Just knowing that people I’ve never met might read it and cast unfair judgement, talking about it in overwhelming public spaces, it makes me sick to my stomach.’ 

‘Ya know what? Maybe I did screw up by not asking ya first, an’ I’m awful sorry ‘bout tha’. But have you considered what this might mean for ya if this becomes a phenomenon? Nick, you could be successful! You could inspire Lord knows how many to pluck up the courage an’ change the world for the better!’ 

‘And how could my sad little story possibly help anyone?’ 

‘How could it-Nick, darlin’, all may seem like bliss in this world but I can assure you tha’ there are a bunch o’ people like you who could learn a lot from ya. About life, about how to overcome challenges, about...about love’ 

Love. The main reason for my pain. Since moving out west, my entire perception of humanity had changed drastically, and certainly not for the better. For a brief second, I had thought that someone who I trusted had yet again disproved me. Yet there was something in the boundless optimism within Clara’s eyes that rather often proved me wrong. One valuable lesson I managed to learn from this remarkable human was to never give up hope, because there is no darkness without light. And I knew that if I were to fall, she’d be right there behind me to push me back up with her angel wings. 

I had always found it difficult to put my feelings into words in front of real people, and believed that actions spoke louder than words, which is why I embraced Clara in a consuming hug to express my gratitude for the wakeup call I so desperately needed. 

‘Thank you so much!’ I managed through my choked-up throat 

‘Aww, sweety, really, it’s nothing. Yall did the hard work, I jus’ gave ya a shove in the right direction. Now, when dya have to meet up wi’ this bigshot publishin’ man? 

Eventually, the days and nights had swept overhead until Thursday had arrived, and nothing about the gentle warming sunshine could subdue my nerves. The erratic beating of my unsteady heart swam through my ears, not aiding me in relaxing and preparing to be thrown into the world of writing. The next hour passed with perpetual dread: what on earth would become of this? Paranoia soon kicked in and I began to pace in circles in my front room, until I heard a knock at the door. 

‘Nick, it’s me. Are you ready to go and meet your publishing fellow?’ 

Ever since our little escapade, we had mutually decided that while neither of us regretted it, we were much better off as friends. Surprisingly, there had been no awkwardness whenever we had the opportunity to meet up somewhere. When I told Amund about the phone call, he was rather pleased, and had so kindly offered to give me a lift. Yet again I had discovered more genuine goodness and compassion in this world. 

‘Coming!’ I called out from the bathroom as I tried steadying myself by splashing water onto my face. After lacing up my shoes and draping my jacket across my shoulder, I swung the door open to a familiar, overdressed red haired Scandinavian. 

‘Amund, you look amazing but you needn’t have made such an effort for giving me a lift’ 

‘It’s just how I am, you look dashing as always’ he mentioned with a smile upon his face. 

The light conversation continued, from leaving the apartment to being made aware that we weren’t too far off from my destination. I was so glad I had found my two new friends: Clara, with her fiery passion and boundless energy, and Amund, with his cool, relaxing nature provided such a perfect balance that I felt truly content. 

I set foot into the cosy suburban diner where the chief publisher had agreed to meet me, and I couldn’t help but be surprised at the informality of the venue. The black and white chequered floor which housed an array of comfy furniture and old, rusting road signs definitely did not match what I had pictured, putting me at ease until a sharp voice called my name. 

‘Hey there, you Mr Carraway?’. Turning around I saw sitting at a lone table nearby an imposing man with jet black hair and a soft body encased in a charcoal pinstripe suit. A smooth trilby sat beside two steaming cups of coffee, a thoughtful gesture, yet his professional manner made me think that this was purely for business. 

‘Hi, it’s an honour to meet you Mr-’ 

‘McMoore, Benjamin McMoore, but you can call me Benny. Anyway, Nick, I’ve read many books in my time but most don’t come close to yours! It’s such a-such a remarkable insight into the struggles of the average American, something which I’m sure will be a bestseller. Have you written much before this?’ 

‘Well, I tried my hand at a couple of silly little ideas I had on a whim, but nothing came of them. They were mainly to tide over my boredom and tiredness at what my life had become. After what happened to me during those months, I really, really struggled. I turned to alcohol, became an absolute wreck, I even considered throwing myself off a cliff because my thoughts had trapped me in a never-ending cycle of torture. Then, I recalled something which I said to someone: 'you can’t repeat the past’, and I reckoned that I should try and focus on the future. I went to a therapist couple of times a month, and they recommended writing my troubles would give me clearance. Soon enough, it developed into what you read.’ 

‘Goddamn, suicide?! Thank fuck you saw sense; the world could do with more people like you. What made you decide to submit it to my company?’ 

‘Well, it was actually my friend, Clara, who submitted it. I was pretty mad at her at first but she made me see sense. She’s amazing like that, really.’ 

‘Ah, I see. I remember all those wild rumours in the papers and it seemed simply unbelievable. Nick, look, I’ve got to ask you, it seems to me that you had a-well, it seems you had a rather strong bias towards Gatsby. And, there were certain parts that....Nick, are you a homosexual and if so, did you love Jay Gatsby?’ 

It seemed that no matter how hard I tried, that man seemed determined to make my life a misery even from beyond the grave. Not even now, while discussing the very thing that helped me recover, because he managed to recarve the scars of my aching heart. Reluctantly, I whispered ‘yes’ because I didn’t want to admit it to then break down in a torrent of tears washing away my mask and revealing my true self. I then spent the rest of the meeting with a horrible lump in my throat, barely managing to put together a coherent response. Luckily, Benny had understood and tried to ease my pain a little by offering reassurance, advice and kind gestures. 

‘Listen, Nick’ he whispered, leaning closer to me with his arms crossed on the table. ‘I know, as well as you, that there are some who will make your life a living hell. You’re bound to feel like absolute crap, like there’s nothing left to offer, or give, or to hope for. Now listen carefully. These things only affect us when we let them. Whenever life tries to screw you over you’ve just got to’ suddenly he brought his hand down onto the table with a thud ’tell them where to stick it, do you catch my drift?’ 

‘I finally think I do. Look, Benny, thank you so much for this opportunity, I’ll be forever grateful’. 

‘It’s my pleasure to meet talent like you. I’ll ring you up when I’ve set a date for the signing. You’re going to be a star!’ 

Almost a month had passed, and I remained in perpetual shock after seeing the steady influx of reports and articles in the papers detailing ‘The Great-est book of our generation’ and ‘new author tells the story of infamous yankee billionaire’. Remarkably, most reviews had been positively glowing, as for the not-so-kind ones, I simply remembered the words of a wise man. 

Eventually, the long-awaited call finally arrived. Exactly a week later, on a hazy Saturday morning, the magpies and crows arose me from my slumber, my custom morning cup of steaming hot coffee rousing me from bleary eyed to an enigmatic ball of energy and optimism. Everything about that day had my upmost attention: from the soothing beats drifting from the living room to that one stray strand of hair that just wouldn’t stay put, everything about today counted. 

Around two hours later, I hailed a taxi, kitted out in my finest sky-blue button down, checked charcoal pants, matching jacket and my face rosy and glowing. Several times the taxi driver engaged in conversation with me, both about the book and life in general, as we edged closer to the bookstore. People wouldn’t be arriving for quite some time yet, but there were some important matters to attend to prior to the event to make sure it went smoothly. 

Once I arrived at the bookstore, about a million versions of myself, each with a wide smile stared back at my bewildered self from the grand polished windows. It was incredible to see just how much the venue had changed from what I occasionally frequented. Shelves and cases had been pushed aside to make way for a lengthy red velvet carpet that led to a lavish desk complete with something not short of a throne. Some workers were rushing around like ferrets, cleaning and organising and making cups of soothing tea, each time refusing my offers of assistance, replying’ Don’t you worry Mr Carraway, sir, all part of the all-star service’. I wasn’t too sure whether to feel flattered or slightly awkward, so I opted for focusing my energy on preparing for who knows how long of signing, smiling and speaking to strangers. 

Midday had passed not too long ago, and large throngs of eager people snaked all the way down the street until they became a blur. Each one of them held in their trembling hands a small mound of books and other sentimental belongings that they wanted signed by my fair hand while they professed their passion for my story. 

For quite some time, I listened to how strangers from far and wide had been changed and inspired by my enigmatic and thought-provoking account of events. After every last flourish of my pen and the click of the camera capturing me with my arm around a keen fan, I began to feel as though this was part of some great plan set out the moment we enter this intriguing and confusing world. Some familiar faces began to draw closer, and the biggest smile bloomed on my face. 

‘Wow, you guys, I can’t believe you came! Thank you so much!’ I exclaimed, hugging them each in turn. 

‘What better way to spend our free time than to attend this momentous event celebrating your success!’ 

‘Yeah, gotta get ourselves a piece o’ the action Mr. Bigshot writin’ fella! Can’ believe we’ve bagged ourselves a star! Bet ya glad I gave ya tha’ nudge now, huh.’ 

‘Just remember us when you’re off sunning yourself on the deck of a yacht overlooking the Maldives, honey! Oh, and we’re holding you to a celebration of some sorts, and you’re paying’ 

‘How on Earth could I forget you guys! You-’ 

‘Sorry, Nick’ I felt Benny’s hand on my shoulder. Facing Clara. He asked 'Are you Clara? The woman who went behind Nick’s back and sent The Great Gatsby to my company?’ 

‘Well, yeah, I sure am. I weren’t thinkin’ no harm when I did it’ 

‘On the contrary, I believe it was a blessing in disguise. Thank you for having the guts to do what you did because otherwise we all wouldn’t be here’. 

After signing my friends’ memorabilia and having our photo taken together, I returned to my daily task. That was until I looked up at who had put down their things in front of me. It was the guy at the bar who I had laid eyes on then put aside as me and Amund formed a - connection. This stranger was still as handsome as I remembered: the subtle rays of sunlight doing his silver-and-blonde locks the justice they deserved, his bright smile coupled with a soft-peach suit concealing his ripped physique that made him glow like an angel. 

‘Hi’ I managed out feebly, too struck by his beauty. 

‘Hey, I believe I saw you at a bar not too long ago’. Oh Lord, he remembered. ‘I was going to go over and talk to you, but then you went off with this other guy and-anyway, I’m glad I finally get to meet the beauty behind the brains’ he ran a hand through his locks briefly before returning his piercing gaze to mine. His other rested on the table, and I ached to reach out for it and would’ve done so if not for the gigantic crowd. 

As I began to put pen to paper, I asked the handsome stranger ‘And who am I making this out to?’, to which he replied in his smooth and deep voice, ‘Connor, and I’d much rather that you would make out with me than a book’. At my flabbergasted expression tinged pink with shock, he gave a chuckle. ‘Adorable. Listen, what would you say about me taking you to the movies once you’re done here? I promise it’ll be worth your while.’ 

‘That’s so sweet, Connor, but I might be here a while and I wouldn’t want you waiting around all day’ 

‘Trust me, I would wait a lifetime if it meant I got to spend a day with you’. I could see how genuine he was being, and I was struck that someone like him would look at someone like me twice. 

‘Well then Connor, it would be the grandest of honours to accompany you to the theatre, but I’m not sure I’d be able to pay attention when you’re sitting next to me’. 

‘I’m flattered, but I’m more concerned about your angel wings getting in the way’ he winked and for a second my heart stopped. Unfortunately, he had to go once his books were signed and our photo taken, and I was once again drawn back into reality. 

‘Hello, Nick’, a cold, sneering voice had my head draw up and a familiar face met me: greasy, slick-backed hair the same shade as his lifeless eyes, an athletic build towering tauntingly at me from where I sat. 

‘Hello, and who am I addressing this to?’ I enquired. 

‘Come on, Shakespeare, you know me’. Shakespeare. That one name made my blood run cold and a sheen of sweat gather on my brow. 

‘Tom? I thought that you-that you and-why are you here?’ I stuttered. 

‘God, and I thought you were smart. Anyway, I thought I’d come by, see what the hype about this new book was. I read it, and I must say I was shocked to think that you would say such unkind things about me!’ 

‘You deserved it. You made my life and the lives of everyone who you’ve met hell. You don’t give a damn about anyone else other than yourself because you’re too-’ 

‘And you oughta shut your stupid fucking mouth before I tell everyone in this place that you’re nothing but a low-life little faggot’ he snarled just loudly enough for me and Benny, who was behind me, to hear, because he squared up to Tom in a way that professional boxers do. 

‘Buddy, I’m going to give you five seconds to get out of this store before I make you pay for what you just said’ 

‘Aww, getting your little bodyguard to pick your fights, are you, Nick? Always knew you were weak, even in college’. With that, Benny clearly saw red and grabbed Tom by the collar aggressively, emitting a slight yelp from Tom’s constricted throat 

‘Maybe you didn’t hear me clear enough. Get. The. Hell. Out’. 

Attempting to brush off that moment of weakness, Tom transformed his face into a vicious smirk before gathering up his things. 

‘You know, if it wasn’t for you then he' I pointed to the title of my book' would still be alive’. 

‘Yes, you keep deluding yourself’, and with that he was gone. 

I remained in the bookstore for a couple of hours more, a repetitive cycle of signing and smiling which weirdly gave me comfort: I realised that I had managed to make the world just that little bit better. 

After saying my goodbyes and thanks to the store owners, I walked back out into the mild city air. To my surprise, Connor was standing waiting outside, ever the gentleman. 

‘You waited for me? Oh my God, Connor, that’s so sweet of you!’ 

‘Honestly, it was nothing at all. It gave me the opportunity to run a few errands. So, shall we go?’ he offered me a bent arm which I linked with my own as we wandered down the crowded street towards the local cinema. I worried for a second whether passers-by would take offense at our actions, yet something about Connor’s confident manner helped put my mind at ease. We chatted about our lives as we strolled: secrets and stories flowing as easy as a river in the height of springtime. 

After we arrived at the cinema, a brief well-mannered dispute as to who would pay for the tickets broke out (Connor ended up paying for tickets while I paid for refreshments). With arms full of striped popcorn boxes, tall soda cups and excited smiles on our faces, we ascended towards the darkened showroom. 

The film we agreed on watching was a popular thriller starring Harold Lloyd, an actor who I admire immensely, not only for his superb adaption skills. 

‘I’m curious, why Lloyd?’ 

‘I dunno, I guess because he’s got that kind of quirky charm about him, makes him stand out from the crowd. So, how about you? Who would you choose?’ 

‘Hmmm, that’s a tricky one. I guess I’d choose...’ he thought intensely ‘Chaplain’. 

With that I burst into muffled giggles, to which he just looked at me with a bemused expression on his face. ‘Charlie Chaplain? Are you-are you-why?’ 

‘Well, I don’t know about you but I think he’s an incredibly sexy man’. For a split second, we looked at each other seriously, before collapsing onto each other in fits of laughter while trying not to piss off the other audience members. Luckily, me and Connor were sat fairly close to the back, so anyone else in the room wasn’t likely to spot us acting like we did. 

The film began, and we both became entranced at the scenes unfolding in front of us. Every so often, one of us would reach into the deep box of golden, salty-sweet popcorn, and our hands would brush: his large, rough ones making contact with my softer and more delicate ones sending a shock down my spine. Whenever a scene that was particularly frightening came on, one that was simply chilling, I leant into the warmth of Connor’s body dressed in soft fabrics. Thankfully, he was very understanding, and leant his head gently over mine, some stray locks brushing my cheek. We spent a majority of the movie like that; blissfully content in a warming embrace while the plot unfolded further. 

‘Wow, that really lived up to its reputation! Nothing like his other works.’ 

‘Yeah, I swear it was so edge-of-your-seat I would’ve literally fell if it wasn’t for you placing your head on my shoulder.’ 

‘You’re welcome. I just need to quickly nip to the bathroom, you don’t mind waiting here for a little bit?’ 

‘I will be right here, I promise’ he declared as he put his hand on his heart. 

I splashed water onto my face to try and see if I was dreaming: today had been an utter success. The book signing went tremendously, and I found a potential lover. However, as I walked out of the bathroom, Connor was nowhere to be found. Instead, someone else took his original place. 

‘Nick, come with me and please refrain from asking questions’. 

In a state of perpetual shock, Amund dragged my bemused body down the steps and out to where he had parked his car. The entire journey had been unbearably tense: I felt as though I had zero control over what could potentially be a life-changing moment, judging by his deadly serious way of greeting me. The jagged speedbumps jolting my stomach which with my current levels of anxiety made me feel as though I could throw up. 

I soon discovered that we were back at the apartment block, and I began to wonder what could be so important here? Nevertheless, I ascended the stairs with Amund trailing behind me, my heart pounding to the beat of my footsteps. 

Before I opened the door, I heard a muffled confrontation emanating from within Clara’s room. 

‘You’d better tell him’. 

‘What good would it do? Everything’s fine now, can’t we just start from scratch?’ 

‘Start from- boy as soon as he walks in through the door ya gonna start talkin’ or Imma set Jenson on ya!’ 

‘Okay, okay, but-’ 

‘No buts. After all he’s been through he deserves an explanation’. 

At my entering the apartment, Jordan, Clara and Connor turned round to look at me and Amund, each one with a certain degree of shock on their faces. 

‘Connor, what happened to you? I told you to wait and the next minute you were gone?’ 

Immediately, I heard a series of disbelieving scoffs that filled the air thick with unknown tension. If what they wanted to tell me was so urgent, then why hadn’t they already said it? Figuring that they wanted me to work it out for myself, I asked ‘Look, clearly there’s something you’re all keeping from me so why not just come out with it?’ 

‘You’re right, we should just come clean, shouldn’t we, Connor?’, Jordan added in a tone which held much more than the attempted curiosity she tried to express. He was one of the most genuine people I have had the pleasure of coming across, so it was impossible for him to be capable of deceit, yet I also trusted my friends to be honest with me, so I looked at Connor once more. His demeanour had transformed subtly, from the suave and confident man I met this morning to something more hesitant, wary. This confrontation had clearly shaken something in him, as one look at me had him bolting for the door, repeating ‘I can’t do this’, but not before he was suddenly seized by Clara, trapping him against the wall while Amund began to undo the buttons on Connor’s shirt. For a moment, I felt my cheeks heat up at the memory of me being in Connor’s position some time ago. In a matter of seconds, the immense racket that ensued in the confrontation came to a halt when Connor’s incredibly toned chest was exposed to the warm light. 

‘Do you see it now, Nick? You’ve been lied to again and we just had to tell you as soon as we found out’. 

Edging closer to Connor’s exposed chest, my eyes fell on a minute scar, not much bigger than a quarter, with another slight line running from the middle of his chest to below his left pectoral. Immediately, panic filled my lungs at the things that could’ve happened to Connor. Then, a more sinister and far-fetched idea came into my head, and the way in which he looked down at me confirmed it. 

‘Jay?’. No answer, just a pained expression of remorse and guilt. ‘No. No, no, no, no, you-you're dead! I was there at your funeral! I was sobbing my heart out because I was the only one who truly cared but I was too cowardly to follow my heart and left you there in your final hours’. 

‘Hello to you too, old sport’ he chuckled. ‘As you can see’ he placed his fingers on the side of his neck, ’Yep, still alive!’ 

‘You just think this is one big joke, don’t you? You just think that you can throw on a suit, flash a smile and your money and you’d have everyone at your mercy! Well, I was gifted with common sense and can see right through your deceitful, arrogant, careless soul!’ I near yelled. 

‘Look, Nick, just let me explain. Please, I’m begging you to give me a chance to put things right. I know that what you went through was awful, but if you listen then maybe we can put it behind us and start afresh?’ he pleaded in a desperate voice. 

‘How will I know that you won’t just screw me over like that again, huh? You know what, I’ve built myself a decent life here away from all the liars and the fakes but you just had to come and ruin it, just like you did my dreams all that while ago. Well, I’m sorry for your wasted trip but I never want to see you ever again!’, and with that I stormed out of the apartment, down the stairs and out into the crisp evening air. I sat on the cold stone steps of the entrance, attempting to process the immense revelation that was made a short minute ago. Looking back, my anger was most likely the result of a vile mix of suppressed hatred and passion that made me act how I did. 

The sky was transforming from a dusty rose to a to a subtle navy when I heard a panicked shout emanating from an upper window. Turning around, I saw that it was Clara who had stuck her head out towards the city below her. 

‘Oh Nick, darlin’, ya better come right away! It’s-Connor, he gotten awful upset and went all loopy and I’m scared he gonna do somethin’ terrible to himself!’ 

I’m not sure whether it was love or basic human instinct that had me bolting back up the stairs to her apartment, yet I was there fast as light and what I heard chilled me to the core. Retching noises came from the bathroom between agonising cries and groans. Voices pleading for whatever was happening to stop before more retching and a scuffle resulting in items being thrown onto the floor. 

‘I’ve fucked everything up! What’s left for me now?’. 

‘He’s probably just shocked, just give him time’. 

‘I’ve waited far too long! He’s given up on me! I love him so much and now he’s gone I’ve got nothing!’ 

I threw open the door and what I saw nearly made me break down right there. There, kneeling beside the toilet looking hopelessly distraught and lost was Jay, an empty bottle of sleeping pills a reminder of what might have been. He was the King of adaptation: the pair of scissors clasped in his right hand currently being held away from him in a vice-like grip by Jordan exposing his clever alternative to achieving death. I extended my hand towards him in a gesture of forgiveness, telling him in a soft sympathetic voice ’okay, I’ll let you explain, but please let’s go to my place?’. After getting him back up and making sure he was in a fit state to move, we made our way out, Amund calling out behind us, ‘Jay, please. I know you have good intentions but please make sure to treat Nick with respect, he deserves it’. 

Once we got back to my place, I showed Jay to my bedroom while I went to make us both a mug of soothingly warm tea. This seemed to settle his nerves, as he could now look me straight in the eyes with a focused and genuine composure. 

‘Nick’, he began. ‘I know that I haven’t always been genuine: to you, to everyone, even to myself. Over time, I’ve learnt to be truer so please grant me this opportunity to prove to you that I can leave the sordid past behind and build a better future’. 

‘Jay, I-’ 

‘James’. 

‘What?’ 

‘James. I’d like you to call me James. I figured that there’s no use pretending to be someone I’m not, especially when that person is dead’ 

‘You did die! You got shot! I was at your funeral and unless I was mistaken you were pretty dead then!’ 

‘For a moment, I thought I was, too. Luckily, one of the butlers heard the shots and had rushed down to drag me from the pool. They called a doctor, who had promised to keep quiet about the whole situation as soon as they were offered a generous sum. By the time they arrived, I had lost so much blood that I was as pale as snow, barely alive and drifting in and out of consciousness while the scarlet pool grew around me. Apparently, I had been in a coma for roughly four days whilst I was recovering from the blood transfusions, bullet removal and general trauma. When I awoke, still in incredible pain, the doctor said that it was a miracle I survived: the bullet fell just short of my vital organs which made the operation a huge success.’ 

‘I’m so sorry!’ I said, choking up. ‘I should’ve trusted my instincts and stayed with you. This is all my fault, you’d’ have never been caught up in that mess if I hadn’t been such an idiot!’ 

‘Hey, you listen to me now. This has never been your fault, okay?’ he reassured me as he placed an arm round my waist. ‘You weren’t to know how things would’ve unfolded. It was me who should’ve just seen sense instead of waiting for something that I wasn’t sure I even wanted’. 

‘Some-something you weren’t sure you wanted? I thought that-that you became Gatsby to try and get her back?’ 

‘I thought so too. I thought that by winning her affection, I could become successful yet still retain a reminder of where I had come from. When I returned from the war and found out about that awful man it felt as though I had lost everything. That’s why I became Gatsby: I thought that I could forget the past and look forward to a more optimistic future. Oh, if only it were that easy! You see, the chances of becoming successful in this world through genuine means is incredibly slim, but the results were amazing for a time. I had come from a farm in the middle of nowhere to a grand palace overlooking the shore. What they don’t tell you is that money can’t buy you love. Well, not proper love anyway. The day that we first met, I knew that there was something special about you: there you were, at a time when I was truly lost, so willing to help someone like me. Sometimes I found myself wondering whether you had an ulterior motive, but realised it was just you being the angel that you were, that you are. Nick, I cannot apologise enough for what I put you through. I’m deeply sorry for making you feel as though I’d abandoned you because I felt I had what I wanted. When I was shot, the second that I felt the bullet pierce my chest I had an epiphany. That was where blind hope had gotten me: a brush with death and immense pain for days. Those days lying in bed totally helpless gave me a chance to think: to realise the truth’, he took my hand in his and placed it above his heart. ‘My life is so much better with you in it Nick. I felt happy again not when I saw her at your place, but when you came to my party, so stunning and so beautiful, full of life and untainted by this cruel world. Please, I beg you, would you allow me the privilege of being your lover?’ 

‘Oh my god James, of course I would! But I have to ask, are you completely sure that I’m not just some sort of replacement?’ 

‘As soon as I finally got my head together, I couldn’t go a single day without picturing your gorgeous self. I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t sleep without picturing how your soft chestnut locks would feel tangled within my fingers, or how it would feel to admire your entrancingly slim and pliant body with loving embraces and kisses. And your eyes, don’t even get me started because we could be here all day. When I gaze into your eyes, like I’m doing now, I feel free; as though they really are the sky and I’m soaring far above the earth. What else? Oh yeah, you’re incredibly generous, kind, sweet, smart an-’ 

‘Ok, ok, you’ve made your point’ I giggled after being showered with James’ praise which still felt surreal after so long. As he continued to stare at me with admiration, I felt my heart do somersaults which only heightened as we began to edge closer to each other in pursuit of a common goal. The warm air between our faces grew hotter and hotter until we closed the gap between us so our lips joined in a loving union. Whether it was seconds or hours, we continued to kiss as though this was our only life source, my hands round his neck stroking up and down while James caressed my waist beneath my shirt. This blissful moment ended much too quickly, but I was assured by the smiles we exchanged that there would be much more to come. 

‘Say, Nick, do you mind if I stay the night? I’d much rather fall asleep next to you than on my own on a lumpy mattress in my hotel room.’ 

‘Absolutely! Sleeping on my own seems kind of sad when I know I could use your chest as a pillow’. 

Midnight came, and while I donned my usual pyjamas, James attempted to pull off one of my shirts despite it being much too small to accommodate his ripped physique. I felt apprehensive about changing with him in the same room, but James reassured me that I needn’t be insecure. 

The windows were shut, the curtains drawn and we had settled ourselves beneath the soft sheets. Only my bedside lamp remained on while we stayed up talking about all sorts of nonsense. Only when I began to yawn (not out of boredom, certainly not) and our eyes began to droop, did James reach over and turn the light off. In that sweet moment, facing each other with our limbs intwined in each other's, the Tale of James Gatz had truly begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect lots of fluff (with a hint of spice) in the next chapter coz I think we all need a bit of that

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


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